The Duality of Kamala Harris and Fat Love in The Fenty Show

I think the only thing that circulated on the internet more than Mike Pence's pet fly from the Vice Presidential Debate was Kamala Harris's facial expressions. 

Black women understood very well what her faces meant and how she had to compose herself out of fear of being labeled an ABW, "an "angry, black woman". 

We understood when Harris had to put her foot down so a white man would understand that it was her time to speak and she was not to be interrupted.

This all resonated with us because Kamala is a black woman. 

And therein lies the duality of Sen. Kamal Harris. We can recognize that she is a black woman and will thus go through this election facing not just sexism, but racism as well. Plights of a black woman. But we can also recognize that she is no friend to the black community. 

Senator Harris served as California's Attorney General from 2011 to 2017. 

She was the San Francisco district attorney from 2004 to 2011.

During Harris's 6 years as AG, 18 people were killed by police in San Francisco.

Her constituents routinely called for her to intervene in these cases, to no avail.

As a prosecutor, Harris oversaw more than 1,900 cannabis-related convictions in San Francisco.

After this track record, she the nerve to claim to smoke weed while listening to Tupac and Snoop in the 90s on The Breakfast Club.

All this serves as a reminder that Kamala Harris is no friend to the black community, despite being a black woman who will be seen through the white male gaze during her run for VP. 

Mass Shooting, Keep Protesters out of it, and Impostor Syndrome

 A mass shooting left 2 people dead and 14 other injured early Saturday morning in Rochester. 

A tragic event that happens in the midst of major social unrest. 

For the last 2 and a half weeks, protesters have been calling for justice for Daniel Prude. 

Prude was killed by Rochester Police Officers back in March. 

Protesters do NOT have to answer for the violence last night. They are not responsible for that and shouldn't be asked about it. 

Balck on Balck crime doesn't exist and we need fundamental changes to truly stop such senseless violence. Instead of looking for protesters to speak up on this, (which many have already done because it's terrible and sad and they are human beings) help spread the word of what could really prevent things like this from happening: a better education system, an end to hunger and poverty, and defunding the police to then fund social services needed to provide necessary resources for the community. If that's not what you're fighting for take several seats. 

To hear more of what I had to say on all of this including my bouts with imposter syndrome click this link ---->>>Saturday morning show

I can still be fat and be proud of my body

I woke up earlier than usual today. 

I couldn’t fall back asleep so I did what any self-respecting 23-year-old would do:
scrolled through social media. 

During my scroll, I saw an ad for an app that helps you track weight loss.
It helps you track water intake, calories, your steps and it gives at-home workouts. 

It seemed easy to use so I downloaded it and it’s cool so far.
I’m just wondering how long it has before I send it to the app graveyard.
I have downloaded countless apps that are supposed to help you on your journey,
but none of them stuck. So we’ll see. I do know that it made me start to think about my life and body.

I’ve struggled with my weight for as long as I can remember. 

As a kid, my mom took me to a nutritionist. 

I don’t remember going more than twice, but I do remember feeling ashamed. 

I was in the 3rd grade and weighed 120 lbs. 

I remember working really hard-- losing two lbs and giving up.

I kept thinking “All of that work? For what?”

As I got older-- I got bigger. 

I ate what I wanted and didn’t really care to be honest. 

I played sports like volleyball and tennis to stay active.

I was big-- but I wasn’t THAT big I would tell myself. 

I would think “As long as I never get THAT big, I’ll be okay.”

Now that I am 23 and I am THAT big, I realize how destructive those thoughts were.

How I looked down at larger fats and held myself on a different scale (pun intended). 

Now that I am 23 and I am what I didn’t want to be-- I am struggling to love myself.

Not because I am this big, but because of how I thought of my body and big bodies in general.

That I can’t be happy if I’m that big. That I can’t be happy if I don’t weigh less than 150 lbs. 

And the thing is it isn’t the weight that bothers me. It isn’t that number on the scale.
It’s that I can’t walk the block anymore without my back hurting or needing a break. 

What younger me didn’t realize is that it’s not about the numbers at all, but how you feel.
It’s loving yourself despite what you are told.

That although you are overweight/obese-- you are still worth loving. 

So my goal isn’t to lose weight. It’s to feel better. It’s to find a new outlet,
a new focus when it comes to my body. It’s paying attention to what I put into it.

If at the end of this I was still over 300 lbs, I won’t be disappointed in the journey. 

My goal is to know I am doing my best and giving my body the attention it deserves. 

I can still be fat and be proud of my body.

Mental Health During Quarantine

Self-care, ethical non-monogamy, and Covid-19 with Donyell the Massage Therapist

Dealing with life in the wake of Covid-19 has been tough. It seems like a normal life is gone for the moment and we will have to make do with staying home and having fun in different ways.
Don't forget to practice self-care.

I spoke with a local massage therapist, Donyell, about how she is practicing self-care and what she is doing for income after her place of work closed.
We also speak on polyamory; how to navigate the love style and what we can do to be better in those relationships.

Take listen below and every Saturday at 10 a.m. on WXIR.

Remembering A Black Literary Icon: R.I.P. Toni Morrison

Toni Morrison passed away on Monday, August 5th.

It was made public the next day.
My colleague gave the news at a meeting and I audibly gasped.
I was in shock for a bit and was out of it for the rest of the meeting.

I was truly introduced to Morrison's work as a college junior with my first black, female college professor.

Professor Tait was a huge admirer of Morrison's work and had both "The Bluest Eye" and "Beloved" on her syllabus. My only exposure to "Beloved" was a failed attempt at reading the material in 7th grade. The library book is probably still buried somewhere in my mother's house.
So I wasn't quite sure what to expect from these stories. I didn't expect them to change the way I think about literature. To change the way I see black love and black struggle.

"Beloved" is a book that you have to read twice. At least I did. To catch the nuances Morrison conveys I needed to comb over the material. The story follows Sethe, a former slave, who can't heal the scars that slavery has left. She attempts to kill her children when someone tries to force them back in. She succeeded with her baby girl. Her two boys run away after that and its just her and her other daughter, Denver. Then comes in Paul D.

Sethe and Paul D worked the same plantation for years. Paul D. struggles with the past and what he endured during slavery. He keeps all of his feelings inside his "tobacco bin" of a heart.

So we have these two traumatized, broken people who have seen more evil than one can imagine. Sethe and Paul D. survived the worst of what the world could throw at you. Both were so damaged.
Yet, they found a strength within each other. They found love within each other. No matter the scars and bruisings, they found something worth holding on to.

This narrative enforced that black people are stringer than what the world wants them to believe. We can find a way to love through the struggle. Black love is the strongest there is.

Morrison inspired millions to love freely and openly. To invest in your mind and your heart. She was a true literary icon and a black hero. She will be truly missed.

My Journey To Mending My Mental Health: The First Step

So I started taking my mental health serious, recently.
I had mentioned going to therapy for years.
I mean--years.
My best friends can definitely attest to that.
They sat with me through rants, mental hi jacks.
Everything.

But a lot has been going on lately. So much so that I finally took that step.
I researched therapists who accepted my insurance.
I knew that I wanted a black woman, at the very least.
I wanted a queer person if I could find one.
I feel as if this was the biggest thing that slowed my process.

As I searched, I realized the lack of black mental health professionals, at least the lack of who take my insurance.
I settled for having a woman-- no matter the race.
I called several practices.
Most weren't taking on new patients
or despite saying somewhere that they took my coverage they actually did not.
This was extremely discouraging.
I kept thinking "The world tells you to seek help if you need it, but I am doing just that and I am grasping at straws."
I honestly was close to giving up, but I found someone who fit everything that I wanted.
She is a black woman. Accepting of both queer and polyamorous lifestyles. She took my coverage (NO COPAY). I couldn't believe the gem I had uncovered.

I didn't let myself get too excited because I still had to meet her and see if she was the right person for me off paper. So I set up an appointment and waited the two weeks.
During that time, I added more things to my mental list that I would bring up in my first session.
The list was at least a mile long. It focused a lot on relationship issues, which have been the main stresser for me and my partners lately.

I had become depressed, irritable, anxious, mean. Now some of these were always present, but others seemed to manifest as we embarked on a new relationship dynamic (throuple, triad, threesome--whichever term conveys the message for you).
I couldn't get a handle on my insecurities and lashing out. I blamed them (my partners) on lack of intimacy. I pushed them out of my life in ways thinking they were better off.
So I was extremely ready once the day came that I would have my first session.
There was a lot that led up to this moment. From my childhood to my relationships.

Walking in to the room I felt calm, but nervous.
I sat in the semi-comfy chair and started to talk. About my most recent trauma from my relationship. About how I felt left out. About how hopeless I feel.

She asked about my family and childhood. About the relationships I had with my siblings. My mom.
I never thought the opening up part would be an issue, but I found myself shaking and holding back tears the entire time. Partly, because most of these were open scars and all of the emotions were washing over me. Partly because I was afraid she would judge me. I was afraid she would reduce my pain in to nothing more than an argument gone wrong or a lovers quarrel.
But she didn't. She listened. She smiled when I said how much I loved my partners. She was reassuring when I said how alone I feel. 
Before I knew it the 45 minutes were up.

I didn't feel necessarily different when it was over. I felt as if all of my wounds had been torn open and I couldn't find band aids to cover them. I felt exposed. But those wounds will heal with time.

I am an impatient person so I was worried that this won't change me. But I know this a journey that I will be on for a very long time. Even after I "fix" my relationships and become less depressed (hopefully). Even after I feel secure enough to end therapy. I will always be on this journey of mending my mental health. Not because I have infinite problems, but because issues never really go away. Hardships never really stop. Your past will always be there.
What will change is how I treat myself and others when my past clouds my head and judgment.
I hope that in the future I will choose to confide and cherish the ones  I love instead of pushing them away.

Thank you to Joe, Nisha, Summer, Ky, Ashley, and Carlie for listening to me when I cried. To listening and being there for me even when you didn't have the strength to be. I know some of you may not have heard form me in a while, but I hope to fix that. I hope to be what you all are to me.

This is my first step. I am excited to see what this journey has in store.